<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>And As You Are by MadlyMusical</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26018152">And As You Are</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadlyMusical/pseuds/MadlyMusical'>MadlyMusical</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Don't Starve (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blow Jobs, First Time, Gender Dysphoria, M/M, Max is trans in this one because I'm trans and I get to make the headcanons, just a little</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:27:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,380</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26018152</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadlyMusical/pseuds/MadlyMusical</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There was going to be a learning curve. He was prepared for that at least. Last time, clothes hadn't even come off. At least not completely.</p><p>But now, with Maxwell shedding his waistcoat and undoing the buttons of his shirt, Wilson found himself at a loss.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Maxwell/Wilson (Don't Starve)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>And As You Are</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Babie's second porn. Vague continuation of something from my Not Spicie Account.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Autumn passed into Winter and Winter passed into Summer and Summer was overstaying it's welcome. Miserably hot, the sheer heat was distorting the horizon, but the crackling of distant forest fires was as clear as ever. Once in a while, a spark would spit far enough and land in the branches of an unlucky bush, causing the flingomatics to whir to life and quickly douse the smoldering plant.</p><p>The usual background ambiance of Summer, dragged on a few days too long, running patience and resources thin. But with the heat so oppressive that even the coldest of thermal stones soon heated to unbearable temperatures, there was little to do but wait it out.</p><p>Most everyone had taken to wearing loose, breezy clothing, or like Wilson, going without a shirt in the noon heat.</p><p>Something that didn't go unnoticed.</p><p>At first, Wilson had assumed the prickling feeling on his back was the beginnings of a sunburn, or a bead of trickling sweat. Reaching around to touch the area didn't bring pain, nor did it stop the odd itch even when wiped away. So he turned his head to peer over his shoulder and down his back, and instead caught Maxwell hurriedly looking away.</p><p> </p><p>Ah.</p><p> </p><p>It had only been a season since, well... Since he had learned of Maxwell's secret. Since they'd had a fight about it. Since Wilson had admitted his inexperience.</p><p>Things had more or less gone back to normal, but neither of them had invited the other to their tent since. Wilson didn't want to push the issue, to pressure Maxwell into something he might not be ready for. After how he'd stepped on his toes the last time? He thought it best to let Max take the lead. After all, the whole thing was his fault. He'd known better than to try and slip his hands up Maxwell's shirt. He knew from how tightly Maxwell bound his chest that it was a touchy subject.</p><p> </p><p>Idiot.</p><p> </p><p>And yet, when he turned back to continue tightening the bolts of the flingomatic, he felt Maxwell's eyes trailing appreciatively over his back again. Just then, the makeshift wrench just so happened to slip from his sweaty palms, and Wilson has to bend over to retrieve it.</p><p> </p><p>Behind him, Maxwell coughed.</p>
<hr/><p>Later that night, as Maxwell sat beside him to eat, he shucked his suit jacket off, mumbling about how hot it was. The outsides of their thighs pressed together, and Maxwell hooked his claw into the leather cord holding his hair into a ponytail. “You know, as much as I appreciate having less hair in my food, you can take it down again once you're done cooking. It's probably hot on your neck.” As soon as he undid the knot, Wilson's hair sprung right back up. It drew a smile from Max.</p><p>One that, if they weren't alone, he'd have never seen.</p><p>“There. That's better. Maybe you ought to trim it a bit.”</p><p>“What? No! I've been growing this out for years!” The hand on the back of his neck was bringing heat to his face.</p><p>Maxwell rolled his eyes. “That's about what I thought. You should at least make more of an effort to keep cool, especially if you insist on growing your own fur coat.” Now his hand moved. From the back of his neck to his face, stroking through the stubble on his cheeks. Making the blush worse.</p><p>“My tent is closest to the second endothermic fire.”</p><p> </p><p>Oh.</p>
<hr/><p>There was going to be a learning curve. He was prepared for that at least. Last time, clothes hadn't even come off. At least not completely.</p><p>But now, with Maxwell shedding his waistcoat and undoing the buttons of his shirt, Wilson found himself at a loss. His mouth was dry. He wanted to touch him. But he kept his hands to himself. When Maxwell turned away, he put his hands over his eyes to give him more privacy.</p><p>The sound of cloth bandages unwrapping. Maxwell taking a deep breath, shivery and relieved.</p><p>Wilson felt himself twitch. His prick was pressed tightly into the zipper of his pants. Almost painful. He bit his lip. “Can I look yet?”</p><p>There was more rustling.”Alright, alright. Fine. You can look.”</p><p>Once he'd removed his hands from his eyes, Wilson blinked to adjust to the dimmed light. Maxwell was wearing only his boxers and a loose undershirt. “Shirt stays on... alright?” Unable to work his voice, Wilson nodded eagerly.</p><p>And then Maxwell moved closer. Hands placed lightly on his waist. Sliding up his ribs to the first button of his waistcoat. One, two, three. Then back down his ribs and around to his groin. Breath caught in his throat as Maxwell squeezed him gently. “You're hard.” He almost sounded surprised.</p><p>“Well-- I mean you're very--” Handsome. Gorgeous. Captivating. “I love you.”</p><p>Wonderful.</p><p>“Mm. Such a way with words, Higgsbury.” There was no malice to it, and Maxwell's lips touched just below his ear. Hot, wet breath tickling him. Maxwell's hands were busy at his belt, so Wilson took it upon himself to finish taking off his waistcoat and start on his shirt.</p><p>It was hot in the tent, but the fresh air sent a shiver through him as his pants and boxers were pulled to his knees and allowed to slip the rest of the way on their own.</p><p>“Can I touch you?” As nice as it sounded to stand there and let Maxwell do what he wanted, his hands at his sides was... uncomfortable. He wanted to make this good. Make it right. Make up for last time.</p><p>“...You can.”</p><p>Moving slowly, giving him time to pull away, Wilson settled his hands on Maxwell's hips. Just under his shirt. Paper-thin, fragile skin. No fat. The bumps of his bones prominent. Warm. When he slid his hands up his concave stomach, it tensed. There was thin, downy hair around his belly button, and he ran his thumbs back and forth through it.</p><p>The muscles relaxed, just a bit. “You're ticklish, aren't you?” He didn't mean to sound so... delighted. But he was. It was nice to discover something about Maxwell's body, something that wouldn't make things awkward all over again.</p><p>Lips moved from below his ear to the corner of his wide grin, nipping his mouth. Bright little pinpricks. “Shut up.”</p><p>He did.</p><p>And Maxwell dragged his teeth down Wilson's neck, pausing to bite and suck at his collarbone then roll the skin between his teeth for good measure. It'd definitely bruise. Hands were creeping through the hair on his chest, on his stomach. Twirling it through his fingers and combing through woven tangles. Teeth made their way further down, to his chest. To the left. To his nipple.</p><p>Despite leaving a trail of teethmarks, his mouth was gentle, kissing the edge of his areola. Flicking his tongue against the hardened bud drew a gasp out of him, his hand flying to the back of Maxwell's neck. He pressed a toothy smile into the scientist's chest before he drew it into his mouth, sucking gently.</p><p>His hands were still running through the hair on his stomach. Slow circles, slowly widening. Getting closer to his groin with each stroke. When the tips of his finger just barely brushed his pubes, Maxwell switched to the other nipple. Wilson groaned and bucked forward, the head of his cock barely touching Maxwell's shirt. Smearing streaks of precum on it.</p><p>Maxwell pulled his hands away, and stopped the whine leaking from Wilson's throat with a kiss. And then slid to his knees, trailing his hands down his sides as he did. Here, Maxwell hesitated. He looked uncertain.</p><p>And then he gripped the base of his cock, scattering his thoughts like marbles and making him moan. The angle was odd and his grip just a bit too tight. But it was Maxwell. It was the first time he'd ever been touched like this, let alone by another man.</p><p>But when he stroked, Wilson yelped and pulled back. “Not-- Not dry.” Admittedly he'd been leaking precome this whole time, leaving his length at least slightly slick. But the feeling of dry skin rub against it was unpleasant.</p><p>A quiet, apologetic mumble faded into silence. Maxwell was staring. Moving his hands up and down Wilson's thighs, stopping to grips his ass and knead it. “Spit should work fine...? I mean there's no rush! We can always stop if you want, I mean, it'll go away and we could just call it a night--”</p><p>His vision went fuzzy around the edges when Maxwell touched his tongue to his tip. Things felt a lot less awkward, all of a sudden. Though that might have something to do with his hips rocking forward on autopilot, pressing against his lips and sliding against his tongue. Claws dug into his ass, and a growl vibrating through his prick. “If you want me to blow you, you're going to have to hold <em>still!</em> You'll choke me doing that.”</p><p>Blow him?</p><p>Maxwell was going to blow him.</p><p>“I mean just your hands would be fine! You could just lick them. When I said spit would be fine that's what I meant!” Maxwell sat back on his heels and glowered up at him.</p><p>“I'm not going to bite it off. You don't need to be so nervous. I know what I'm doing.” That felt like a lie. But Wilson didn't point it out, just took a deep shuddering breath and nodded.</p><p>Maxwell adjusted his grip, holding him by the hips. When he leaned in, he pressed a kiss to the base of his cock. Precum dripped from his tip, landing onto his shoulder. More kisses, tracking up his length until finally he kissed the pearly drop beading there.</p><p>And, god, he <em>whimpered.</em> Stopped himself from rocking forward, at least. Maxwell opened his mouth with his tongue over his bottom teeth, leaning in. Deliciously wet against the underside of his cock. And when his lips closed around him there was suction.</p><p>Not that much of him was actually inside. He didn't care. Maxwell moved his tongue side to side, rubbing in smooth movements that made him clench his teeth. His head was beginning to bob back and forth, and that, along with the movement of his tongue undid him.</p><p> </p><p>”<em>Maxwell!</em> Oh <em>fuck</em> you're so good I'm gonna cum Maxwell I'm gonna cum! Oh god!” And Maxwell was trying to swallow. Around his cum. Around his faintly rocking hips. Gripping his trembling thighs.</p><p>When it was over, his hands were still buried in Maxwell's hair. He blinked tears out of his eyes as he looked down.</p><p>There was come on his lips. Down his chin. Some on the floor and his shirt collar. He hadn't been able to swallow all of it, and the sight of it...</p><p>Well. His cock made a valiant effort to rally at the sight. It was still a bit too soon, but he groaned and joined him to kneel on the fur mat. And kissed him. Tasted his own cum on his tongue. Licked it off his chin.</p><p>“Higgsbury that is <em>disgusting!</em>” But Wilson just laughed into his mouth. “Ugh. I can't believe you sometimes.” There was no real malice, and he was kissing back gently.</p><p>Still riding the floaty after-effects, Wilson pulled back. Skimmed his hands down Maxwell's shirt and down to his boxers, hooking his thumbs into the waistband. He froze.</p><p>“...I mean. You didn't think I was just going to let you get me off without returning the favour. Did you?” Wilson slid his thumbs back out from the waistband, relaxing onto his hips. “If you don't want me to, I won't!”</p><p>After a moment, the tension eased, and Maxwell grabbed his hands. “Awfully confident today.” He shifted, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his elbows. Lifting his hips, he pulled down his boxers. The crotch stuck for a moment, before it came away and trailed thick strands of fluid. Maxwell's face was red.</p><p>“You're so wet...” It came out as a hushed whisper, reverent. His hands rested on Maxwell's knees, gently.</p><p>“Hard.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I'm <em>hard</em> not wet.” He was tense again, his voice faking confidence. Wilson felt guilt flash through him, hot. Making his stomach knot, afraid he'd fucked it up. Again. Maxwell's hands closed over his, pulling them up his thighs. Then spreading his lip. “See?”</p><p>His clit was hard, the hood drawn back and twitching faintly along with his pulse. “I see.” God. It was so red. Twitchy. If he wanted to, he could reach out and hold it still between two fingers. Stroke him. “Can I...?” After being given a brisk nod, the go-ahead, Wilson gently touched his wet lips with his fingertips. Sliding through the silky wetness and up towards his--</p><p>“Don't-- You can't just paw at it!” He flinched, pulling back again to give him space. “Ugh. Here, just... watch how I do it.”</p><p>Using his own fingers, Maxwell swept the wetness up from his opening and to his clit. Touch light, barely tracing over it. With the same light touch, he dragged his labia over it, rubbing the soft flesh in slow circles around his clit. Hands shaky. “Light circles. Like this.”</p><p>Scooting forward on his knees, so he could sit between Maxwell's, he rested his hand where Maxwell's had just been. Stroking in soft circles, and resting the heel of his hand against his opening. A shivery little sigh escaped him.</p><p>Soft, slow circles, making wet noises with each movement. His wrist and the heel of his hand were getting soaked, and Maxwell had gone loose and slack. Legs splayed as he covered his mouth with hand and gripped the soft fur underneath. Little noises. Hums and sighs and mumbled encouraging nonsense like “yeah, just like that”. The slow rocking movement of his hips, up against his hand.</p><p>His wrist was starting to hurt.</p><p>“Faster!”</p><p>It was worth it though. He was certain of that much.</p><p>Especially when Maxwell made a strangled noise and clamped his thighs around his hand. There was a rush of fluid past his hands, through his fingers. The tent smelled like brine and after a few more moments of rocking his hips, Maxwell's legs fell splayed again.</p><p>“Good?”</p><p>“Shut up.”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>